


gunpowder and purple lace

by Lokincest



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, Espionage, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Kidnapping, Lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokincest/pseuds/Lokincest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Clint felt oddly... sexy. Empowered, even.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	gunpowder and purple lace

In all fairness, they were bought for Clint in the first place.

Clint wasn't even sure where they came from. Or rather, when Natasha had found the time to go shopping. They'd spent the day working on their reconnaissance assignment, which had ended with them dodging bullets. It wasn't until well after midnight when they finally made it back to their hotel room, bruised and sore. Clint had taken his shower first, and then waited in bed while Natasha washed up. When she stepped out of the bathroom, she had them on.

[Soft, silky panties, edged in lace, in his favorite shade of purple](https://41.media.tumblr.com/1624cc10d2cb9f3f6e6dc940bb85a4d2/tumblr_inline_nqw3osxoZD1sw1w9c_540.jpg). They rode low on Natasha's hips, with a tiny ribbon tied into a bow at the front. She was wearing just the panties and nothing else.

Clint understood the gesture immediately – this was nothing like what Nat usually wore. Natasha wasn't the type who believed in a lot of frills and pretense when it came to sex. Dressing up and playing roles was something she did for work – in the bedroom she preferred things to be simple and straightforward. "I'm not going to dress up for you," she had told him once, out of the blue, as if to nip the notion in the bud before it ever formed. And she never had, until now.

She joined him on the bed, grabbing by the chin and kissing him breathless as if she could sense that he was about to speak, to tell her how beautiful she was, to thank her for it. Natasha didn't care for words like that. Words were full of lies, both in what was said and left unsaid. If anyone knew that, it was her.

When they broke the kiss, Natasha moved to take off the panties, but Clint stopped her.

"Keep them on," he said, and laid back onto the bed, motioning for her to get on top of him.

With her thighs on either side of his head, Clint thanked her then, kissing her inner thighs and then pulling her panties to the side and licking into her. For nearly an hour he didn't relent, using his fingers and tongue to pleasure her. Every time he managed to make her cry out, it felt like a victory. There was nothing more satisfying than feeling her shudder against him when she came, to taste how wet he could make her. He loved the way she could use him without shame, pulling at his hair and grinding her cunt hard against his mouth to seek more friction. By the end of it, her thighs were trembling and her panties were as soaked as his chin.

Natasha simply knelt there for a moment, panting softly, a glazed sort of awestruck expression on her face. Clint had the audacity to grin up at her, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Shut up," she muttered with a chuckle, although he hadn't said anything.

The panties were tossed onto the floor. Natasha shoved Clint over and took his spot, flopping onto the bed bonelessly and letting her thighs fall open, like an offering. Within seconds Clint was settling himself between them. She could feel his erection press against her skin, but infuriatingly enough he didn't enter her yet. Instead he ran his hands over her sides and kissed her breasts reverently.

"Okay, stud," Natasha said when Clint took too long to just _fuck_ her already. "This isn't going to be an all night thing. Just hurry up and come so I can go to sleep."

"Quite the romantic," Clint teased, already fumbling to reach for a condom without getting up, because he knew she wasn't kidding. It was quite a stretch – he almost fell off the bed before he managed to grab his jeans off the floor and retrieve the condom in his pocket. By the time he got the damn thing on, Natasha had tears in her eyes from laughing.

To the benefit of his ego, she went quiet and even a little breathless when he sank into her. Their bodies flush together, Clint rested his head against her chest with a sigh and thrust slowly, shallowly. Already he knew that the slow pace wouldn't help him last. He was so close, after waiting this long, but it was worth it. Natasha wrapped her arms and legs around him and waited, letting him use her body the same way she had used his mouth earlier.

After only a minute or two, he came with a muffled grunt against her shoulder, his hips stuttering against her, moving a little quicker and harder with an instinctive urge to release himself deep inside of her. Spent, Clint slumped against her, basking in afterglow for a moment.

"Are you done already?" Natasha interrupted, amused. "That was quick."

"God, Nat-" Clint groaned while she laughed breathlessly. "I'm exhausted, okay? You weren't jumping across rooftops today."

Natasha didn't pay any mind to Clint's whining. She needled him with her fingers until he finally got up. They both cleaned off in the bathroom and then fell back into bed with no intentions of getting up again until late afternoon the next day, at the earliest.

\- -

Their cover had been blown.

Just before dawn, they were rudely awakened by pounding footsteps and the gruff voices of thugs shouting in Spanish as they went from room to room, searching.

At least the bad guys were considerate enough to have absolutely no concept of stealth.

Even as exhausted as he was, Clint was on his feet and full of adrenaline in half a second. Natasha was already getting dressed, buttoning a pair of pants and jerking a t-shirt over her head. She signed to him in the shorthand they had developed after months of working together, and then grabbed her gear and started pushing open the window.

Clint had to find something to wear and get the hell out of there. Natasha was already out the window and running across the roof when the thugs started bashing on their door. That was when Clint realized Natasha had taken his clothes.

"Aw, pants."

There was nothing else for it. Clint put on the only appropriate article of clothing left - the panties. He wriggled into them without a second thought, then snatched up his bow and arrows and hopped out the window, making a mad dash to their agreed rendezvous point. He cared more about his life than his modesty.

\- -

Natasha was waiting for him at the second safe hold. They had another hotel room, under another false name. She was lounging in the bed already, wearing only Clint's shirt and looking pleased with herself.

"I like your new uniform," Natasha said, smirking, and now Clint had no doubt that she'd taken his clothes on purpose. He was just glad that in this country, the police had a lot more to worry about than reports of a nearly naked man running around the city.

"They're... supportive," Clint replied, unwilling to let himself feel embarrassed about this one. It was the truth. The panties were a little snug, but actually it wasn't unpleasant. At least he was wearing _something_ , unlike the time in Budapest when they'd been caught in an all-out war and Clint had been completely naked. After the fighting was over, Natasha couldn't stop laughing about it for hours, despite the fact that she had a broken arm.

But Natasha wasn't laughing at him now. Instead, there was a genuine heat in her eyes. 

"Come here," she said, sitting up and beckoning him closer.

Clint felt a mixture of humiliation and arousal, but made himself go stand in front of her, to let her get a good look. Natasha did just that, openly admiring without a trace of mockery. When she ran her hands over the lace, over his skin, the humiliation melted away. Instead, Clint felt oddly... sexy. Empowered, even.

Natasha sat back and pulled off her borrowed shirt, leaving herself completely nude. At once, Clint reached down and hooked his thumbs under his panties, eager to pull them off and join her, but Natasha's hands darted out and grabbed his wrists, stopping him.

"No," Natasha shook her head, and then grinned at him. "Keep them on."

\- -

Months later, Clint was on a solo assignment in South Africa when he got himself captured. For two days, he was carted from place to place before he ended up chained in the basement of some nondescript little building.

To his surprise, Natasha was brought in and chained up next to him.

"I'm here to rescue you," Natasha explained in a deadpan tone, and shrugged when their captors laughed.

"Strip them both," the leader ordered in Zulu. "I don't want any tricks."

They took great joy in stripping Natasha first, while she rolled her eyes. When one got a little too handsy, groping her chest, she leaned forward and bit him. He swore at her violently, but the leader told his men to leave her alone, praising her and calling her 'fiesty'. She rolled her eyes again and then it was Clint's turn.

They cut off his shirt, and then his pants. And then they burst out laughing.

Clint managed to keep his composure despite the fact that he was left wearing nothing but a snug pair of silky, purple panties. "Don't laugh, man, she likes it when I wear them. Drives her wild. Go ahead, ask her," he said, nodding towards Natasha, who smirked but said nothing.

The explanation seemed to satisfy their captors, who left after only a little more laughter and some mocking words.

Clint exhaled a sigh of relief. "How long do you think until Nick busts us out?" he questioned, but already Natasha was unlocking her own chains. Where she'd managed to hide a key, Clint knew better than to ask.

"Us?" Natasha repeated, amused. "I'm here for you, like I said." She stood in front of him, but instead of unlocking him right away she stopped to run her eyes over his bare body, and then her hands. "Nice panties, Barton."

"I... I figured you were coming, so..."

"I'm sure you did, _after_ you got yourself caught," Natasha snickered. "But there's no way you knew I was coming here before that. And these aren't the ones you got from me. So how many pairs do you own now?" she questioned, her voice low and seductive. "Do you wear them all the time, or only on special occasions, when you want to feel pretty? Do you feel pretty, Clint? Because you look fucking hot. I bet they feel even better, though. It turns you on, doesn't it? All that silk and lace against your skin?"

"Nat," Clint protested, squirming uncomfortably. "I'd love to do this any other time, but they'll be back soon. We need to get the hell out of here."

"You better believe there'll be another time," Natasha grumbled, unlocking his chains. Above them, there was a loud commotion – the choppy wind from a helicopter and then gunfire. "Sounds like Nick's here with our ride home."

Above them, the gunfire died out, leaving only the sound of the chopper. 

It was time to go.

"Uh... I don't suppose you're hiding spare clothes somewhere," Clint said, toeing his shredded pants.

Natasha laughed. "You can wear my bra if you want."

"Maybe later," Clint said, turning red, and Natasha winked at him.


End file.
